


Stubborn Love

by NeverAndAlways



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abusive Neil Hargrove, Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Billy Hargrove & Eleven | Jane Hopper Friendship, Billy Hargrove Lives, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Childbirth, Discussion of Abortion, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Morning Sickness, Mpreg, My First Work in This Fandom, Neil Hargrove Being an Asshole, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parental Jim "Chief" Hopper, Protective Parent Jim "Chief" Hopper, Soft Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Teen Pregnancy, Trans Billy Hargrove, Trans Male Character, Trans character written by trans author, Transphobia, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22647769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverAndAlways/pseuds/NeverAndAlways
Summary: Check the tags before you read!🔥Also: Billy and Steve are both 18 in this fic. No minors here.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 18
Kudos: 105





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Check the tags before you read!
> 
> 🔥Also: Billy and Steve are both 18 in this fic. No minors here.

It all starts with a party. Billy showed up in tight jeans, a T-shirt, a baggy jacket and no binder (fucking thing is way too tight lately. Hurts his tits. Must have shrunk in the wash). Whatever, he makes it look good. He’s standing in the kitchen by the back door; the best place to see and be seen. Someone brushes past him, absolutely stinking of weed, and suddenly Billy’s hit with a sneaker wave of nausea and has to duck out the door to puke in the grass. Hears some of the guys snickering, _looks like Hargrove can’t hold his liquor anymore,_ but that’s the thing: he’s not even drunk. Max is visiting, and she hates it when he drinks, so he hasn’t touched so much as a beer in weeks. He chalks it up to shitty food cart tacos and moves on.

But then it happens again. And it keeps happening, for three weeks straight. He buys a new binder and it _still_ hurts, he’s exhausted all the time, can barely keep anything down. Maybe it’s a stomach bug. But the last straw comes when he wakes up one morning after spending the night with Steve. He wanders downstairs, still shirtless –it’s just the two of them, who cares – to find Steve making eggs for breakfast and he gags, hard, as soon as the smell hits him. Steve turns around from the stove to see him bent double over the trashcan.

“You good?” he asks.

“Great. Fine,” Billy croaks.

“I thought you said you were feeling better.” Steve turns off the stove, takes the pan off the burner, and cautiously approaches Billy, who waves him away.

“You smell like eggs, don’t get too close.” Some of the smell wafts to him anyway, and he dry heaves. Steve takes a couple steps back.

“You should really see a doctor, babe,” says Steve, once he’s done. “This is going on way too long.”

“I’m fine.”

“Says the guy who just barfed in my kitchen.”

Billy stands up, goes to the sink and turns on the water. Cold. Splashes some on his face, cups his hands and rinses his mouth. “I’m _fine,”_ he says again, muffled in the hand towel. “It’s just a stomach bug.”

“Stomach bugs don’t last three weeks, dude.”

“Fucking leave it alone, it’s nothing.” Billy drops the hand towel on the counter – Steve makes a little _tsk_ sound and puts it back on its hook – and sits down at the table. “Maybe I’m just allergic to your dick.” it’s not even that funny, but what the hell.

Steve snorts and returns to the stove, and they don’t talk about it again.

But on his way back to the house that evening, Billy stops at a convenience store and buys – who is he kidding, _steals_ – two boxes of pregnancy tests. He has a hunch. Just hopes he’s wrong.

* * *

The tests come back positive. All of them. Of course they fucking do. Bright pink plus sign, every single one. Goddamn Steve Harrington.

He sits on his bed for a long time, test in one hand, phone in the other. He’s gonna call Steve. He’s gonna do it.

He chickens out. Stuffs all the tests in a plastic bag and stuffs that under the bathroom sink, and goes to school the next day like it’s nothing. Hangs out with Steve after school, goes back to the house, passes out. Rinse, repeat. And he still doesn’t tell him. He should, he knows that. It’s Steve’s fault anyway. But he’ll be so excited, get caught up in the idea of _having a baby_ , and Billy doesn’t even know if he wants that. And then there’s the issue of Neil. Who still calls him Wilma, and who he knows will insist he get rid of it. So he sits on it for a few more days.

Then one day he comes home from school and the first thing he sees is Neil standing in the kitchen. The second thing he sees is a pregnancy test, clutched in Neil’s hand.

Well, fuck.

* * *

There’s a payphone down the street from Neil’s house. Billy’s used it many times, to call Max and find out where the hell she is this time, to call Steve for the same reason, or on occasion, to call the police. This is one such occasion. Billy stuffs quarters into the slot, dials, and leans on the wall while the phone rings in his ear. Gets transferred. The phone rings some more.

“Hawkins police.”

“I’m, uh. Calling to report a domestic assault. Multnomah and 32nd.”

A pause. They recognize that address. “Hargrove residence?”

“…Yeah.”

“We’ll send him over.”

Billy hangs up and waits. Gingerly touches his eye where Neil hit him. It’s tender; he’ll have one hell of a black eye. Wouldn’t be the first time. Nothing broken, though. He slides down the wall to sit against it, cold and scratchy on his back. After a few minutes he sees a familiar car approaching; an old Chevy blazer, painted the ugliest shade of khaki you’ve ever seen. He stands up, and the driver waves as they pull up to the curb. Chief Hopper. He and Billy have become friends, for lack of a better word, over the past year or so. He knows about Billy’s situation at home, and while he can’t do much without hard evidence, he’ll always step up to drive Billy someplace safe where he can crash and get away from Neil for a bit. And he listens, which is more than most people do.

“Hey kid,” he says simply, as Billy climbs into the passenger seat. Billy doesn’t answer. “…your dad, huh?”

“Yeah.” Billy stares out the windshield, arms folded. The car idles.

“What was it this time?” Billy continues to stare out the windshield. Another car goes by. He looks like he’s on the edge of crying. “You don’t hafta tell me if you don’t want to, but if –”

“I’m pregnant.”

There’s a very long, very heavy pause. Billy rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand.

“Well.” Hopper says eventually. “Okay. I gotta admit, kid, that is not what I thought you were gonna say.” again, Billy says nothing. Hopper sighs. “Look, uh…you got someplace to stay? Friends, other family?”

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘course.”

Hopper looks him up and down. “Kid. Look at me.” Billy looks, shiner and all. “Do you have a place to stay? Someplace safe?” they stare each other down for a few seconds. Then Billy’s mouth tightens into a thin line and he looks away. Sometimes talking to him is like talking to a brick wall with an attitude. Hopper drums his fingers on the steering wheel and thinks. “…Alright, well, I have a spare room. I’ll clear it out, pull out the air mattress, you can crash there as long as you need.”

Billy looks at him askance. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll find someplace –”

“I’m not asking. You’re – you’re a young person, in a scary situation, with a big decision to make, and your dad is only gonna make things harder for you.” Hopper punctuates each statement by thumping the steering wheel with the flat of his hand. “This is a big thing. Whatever you end up deciding. I mean, you know that, obviously, but…I wanna help. If I can.”

Another pause.

“Fine.” Says Billy. Hopper figures that’s the most confirmation or thanks he’s gonna get. So, he puts the car in gear and heads for home.

* * *

It's nice to sleep in a place that's actually quiet, Billy thinks. And safe. Even if it's on an air mattress. And even if he wakes up in the night to barf (why the fuck do they call it _morning_ sickness, anyway). He can just sleep, without having one ear open the whole time.

\---

Billy shuffles into the kitchen. Doesn’t feel much like eating – he got sick again this morning – but Hopper will pester him if he doesn’t. Opens a cupboard; there’s some cereal. Good enough. So he fixes himself a bowl (there’s no milk. Oh well), clears a space at the table, and sits down to eat.

He’s staring out the window, thinking about nothing in particular, when he feels a pair of eyes on him. Slowly turns his head. And there’s a kid. Can’t be more than 13; wiry little thing, with a head of short, dark, curly hair and a dress that’s at least a size too big. Her eyes look like they should belong to someone much older. She stares. Billy stares back.

“Hey,” he volunteers. No response. “You’re El, yeah? What’s that short for, Elizabeth? Eloise? Elmo?”

“Eleven,” the kid says flatly. “My name is Eleven.”

Weird name. “Cool. I’m Billy.”

“I know. Hopper told me. He said you’re ‘going through some shit’ and I should leave you alone.”

“Mm. He’s right.”

“About what?”

“Both.”

Eleven makes a little ‘hm’ sound and ambles up to the table. She reaches for the bowl of cereal; Billy waves her hand away.

“Hey, get yer own.”

The kid just looks at him. In fact, she stares him down. Maintaining eye contact, she slowly and deliberately reaches out, grabs a couple pieces of cereal from the bowl, and pops them into her mouth. Then she turns on her heel and wanders away. Billy watches her go, not sure if he's impressed, unnerved, or both. Only when she's disappeared down the hallway does he go back to his cereal. This should be interesting.

oO0Oo


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-- Just to reiterate, Billy is ftm trans in this story. I use female and male terms interchangeably for various body parts, as that's the way I refer to myself.
> 
> \-- Also, it's probably worth mentioning that Billy's views here do not represent the author's views. I'm very much pro-choice. But Hawkins is a small town, so. Small town mentality.

"Two weeks. Two weeks, and just -- nothing. It's weird."

Steve hefts a carton of ice cream onto its freezer shelf, then rubs his hands together to warm them while Robin grabs another from its shipping crate. She shrugs as she hands it over.

"Have you tried calling him? Texting?"

"Yeah, of course."

"And?"

"Phone goes straight to voicemail, and he doesn't answer texts. I'm kinda surprised, I didn't think he'd just ghost me."

"Maybe he didn't. You know what his dad's like."

"Yeah. That's what worries me."

Robin passes him another carton in silence. The fans drone in the background. Steve can feel goosebumps creeping up his arms and legs where his uniform is doing absolutely nothing to help with the cold. He puts the carton away, then turns and leans on the shelf. Robin shrugs again.

"Look, I dunno what to tell you, dude. But this is Billy we're talking about. If he doesn't wanna talk, you're not gonna see him 'till he's ready. He's a big kid, he can look after himself."

"Yeah, but --"

"So stop tying yourself in knots. Or if you're that worried, go to the police station and file a missing persons report. But don't just sit here and freak out." she gives him a pat on the shoulder and heads for the freezer door. "I'll be up front if you need me."

Steve mumbles some kind of affirmative and turns back to his work. Robin's probably right. Although Billy being..who he is, and this town being what it is, if Billy's suddenly gone AWOL, that could mean bad news.

But Robin's probably right.

He hopes she is.

* * *

Billy rummages through his duffel bag. Ratty old gray thing; had it for years. He snuck back to the house this morning, when he was sure Neil wouldn't be there, to grab some of his stuff. Clothes, binder, toothbrush, charger. The essentials. He's not going back there anytime soon if he can help it. He stands up, pads across the room to stuff his shirts into the dresser. Does a U-turn, grabs the last two, doubles back. As he's putting them away, something falls to the floor with a _clunk._ It's his phone. The screen is cracked where Neil got to it, but when he presses the power button, it turns on just fine. So he puts it on the dresser and pads away again.

_Bzzzt._

_Bzzzt bzzzt._

_Bzzzt bzzzt bzzzt._

He turns around. "The hell?"

The screen is full of notifications when he picks it up. Twitter, instagram -- and no less than twenty-five texts and thirty missed calls. All from Steve.

**< hey. missed u at school today. hope ur alright>**

**< hey, u good?>**

**< call me?>**

**< if ur dead, im gonna fuckign kill u>**

**< babe>**

**< miss u <3 >**

Billy's heart sinks right through the floor as he scrolls through the lines of text. The most recent one is from last night. He almost answers it on reflex, but what would he even say? _Hey, sorry I missed your calls. My dad beat me up and I'm staying at the police chief's house 'cause you got me pregnant._ Yeah, no.

There's a standing mirror in the corner of the room. As Billy slowly paces, he glances up at his reflection. He looks...mostly the same, still. A little softer around the edges. He turns to look at himself in profile; his stomach, usually flat, has a roundness to it now, just under his navel. And his chest is already bigger. Not by much, but enough for him to notice. He pockets his phone, cups his hands over his boobs and presses them as flat as they'll go, down and to the sides. The movement sends a _zing_ of pain through his chest, making him hiss through his teeth. He withdraws his hands and takes his phone out again. Steve's last text blinks up at him.

**< i miss u>**

**< it's been three weeks. at least let me know ur alive>**

Billy sighs. Four weeks in, and he still doesn't know what he's gonna do with this...thing. But it's not like he can hide from Steve forever. It's a small town, they'll run into each other eventually. He looks at the phone. Looks at his reflection. Then he sighs and grabs a shirt from the end of the bed. Time to face the music.

* * *

"Hey, dingus."

Steve looks up from his clipboard. Robin is peeking through the storeroom door.

"There's someone here to see you."

Steve goes back to his clipboard. "If it's Dustin, tell him he can wait. I'm doing inventory."

"It's not Dustin."

He frowns. "Nancy?"

"Nope."

Now he looks up again. Who the hell else would want to come see him at work? Robin looks positively smug. She jerks her head toward the front of the store. "Come see."

So he puts down his clipboard and pen and follows her out to the front. Anything to get away from inventory, honestly. Looking around, he gets the distinct feeling he's being messed with; the place is a ghost town.

"Robin, there's no one here."

"By the doors, genius."

By the doors. Of course. Steve steps out from behind the counter and wanders in that direction. He half-expects to get jumped by Nancy or Dustin or the other kids, but there's nothing. Just a couple in one of the booths sharing a banana split, an old man nibbling on the last of a waffle cone, and some shady guy in an oversized button-up who --

Wait a second.

"Billy...?"

He looks up. Pretty hard to mistake that face. Steve's heart does a little flip.

"Hey, stranger."

Steve rushes to close the distance between them. Swoops Billy up in a hug just to know for sure he's really there. Billy doesn't push him away, but he doesn't reciprocate, either; Steve pulls back, but keeps his hands resting on Billy's shoulders.

"You okay? Where the hell have you been, you haven't answered calls or texts or anything, no one's seen you at school, I thought you'd...I dunno, left, dropped out, got kidnapped, whatever. God, I missed you --" he hugs him again, and this time Billy stiffens against him.

"I'm alright," he says when Steve looks him in the eye. The shiner tells a different story, but Steve's not going to push that. "Can, uh...can we go somewhere?"

"Yeah. Uh..yeah. Let me -- hang on..."

Steve digs his phone out of his pocket and finds a text from Robin already waiting for him.

**R: <ill cover ur shift ;) >**

He sends back a quick **< u sure?>**

**R: <yes. dont make me change my mind>**

**S: <ok>**

**< thx robin>**

**< i owe u one>**

**R: <damn right u do>**

So they make their way to the parking lot, Steve following in his boyfriend's wake. Pile into Steve's car and just sit for a moment.

"So...where do you wanna go? My folks aren't home this week, we could hang out at my place."

"Sure. Sounds good."

Steve looks him up and down. "You sure you're okay, babe?"

"'m fine. Let's go."

So Steve shrugs, puts the key in the ignition, and they're off. If Billy doesn't wanna talk, he doesn't wanna talk.

* * *

It is good to see Steve again. Three weeks is way too long. He planned to tell him right off the bat, he rehearsed it the whole time he was walking to the shop, but he can't quite make himself say it. And it's hard to get the words out anyway, with Steve kissing him every time he tries. Makes him forget what he was going to say.

"Steve, hey. Can we just...can we talk for a minute?"

"Mm. Later. I missed you."

They're standing at the side of Steve's bed. Steve is alternating between kissing Billy and nipping along his jaw. He wants to be irritated, but god, he really did miss him.

"Babe --"

"Shh, I gotcha."

Billy damn near pushes Steve away. If he doesn't say it now, he's not going to. But then Steve is sitting down on the bed, pulling him into his lap, and Steve is mouthing at his neck, and goddamn if that doesn't make it hard to focus. He lets it go for a few minutes, trading kisses back and forth, even letting Steve bite a faint mark onto the side of his neck. But then Steve's hands start to wander. They toy with the waistband of his jeans -- Billy has a moment of panic that he knows, he can tell -- then rest on his hips, and he almost drops the issue entirely. Then Steve starts kneading his chest, and it _hurts_ even through the shirt and the sports bra and Billy is suddenly, unpleasantly reminded of exactly why he's here.

"Steve." it comes out higher and more breathy than he intended; Steve just hums into the crook of his neck. He tries again. " _Steve._ I have something to tell you."

"Later," Steve almost whines. He _squeezes._ That's the last straw. Billy hisses through his teeth and grabs Steve's wrists. For a moment he struggles, but Billy's strong for his size. Steve looks up at him, face flushed and lips swollen from kissing, but eyes wide.

"Think with your head for a minute instead of your dick. I have something to tell you," Billy says.

"Okay," says Steve quietly.

"And you're not gonna be mad."

"...Okay."

Billy takes a deep breath, ready to just rip the bandage off. Here goes nothing --

"You're moving away, aren't you? Is that what this is about?"

"Jesus christ Steve, no, fucking listen -- I'm _pregnant."_

Well. There it is. Steve stares at him. He stares back.

"What?"

"I'm pregnant," Billy says it again, quieter this time.

"...Oh." Steve's eyes wander down to his midsection. There's nothing to see yet, not with the shirt on. But Billy still feels self-conscious. "Is...is that why you've been..?"

"Yeah."

"You knew for this long and didn't tell me?"

"I didn't know what you'd say."

There's a long silence. Steve's hands come to rest on Billy's waist, thumbs rubbing slow circles over his hipbones. "God, Billy, I'm sorry." he drops his forehead to Billy's chest. "I fucked up, I'm so sorry."

"Hey, it takes two to tango." Billy says lamely. Feels like he's going to cry, but damned if he'll let Steve see that.

"I know, but..." Steve trails off. His hands twitch on Billy's waist like he doesn't know what to do with them. After another long minute, he looks up. "What are you gonna do..?"

"What do you mean, 'what am I gonna do', I'm gonna have a baby. That's how it works."

"You don't...you don't have to." Steve says quietly. "Don't feel like you _have to._ I mean, there's clinics. You could go to the hospital. I'd go with you if you want."

Something twists in Billy's gut. Not nausea, but close. "I'm not gonna kill it, Steve."

He can't read Steve's expression at that. Affronted? Surprised? Both?

"It's not -- it's a bunch of cells, babe." his voice is gentle, at least. "Like in sex ed."

"I don't care, it's -- it's _alive,_ and I made it, I can't just --" Billy snaps his fingers. His voice is cracking at the edges.

"Okay, okay. Okay." Steve runs his hands up and down Billy's sides, soothing. "It's your decision, babe. I'm not gonna force you one way or another. If you wanna keep it, we'll do that."

"I don't want to keep it."

Billy drops the words flatly. Steve looks up at him again, confused. "But you said --"

"I know what I said."

"Well...if you're not gonna get an abortion, and you don't wanna keep it, then what --?"

"I don't fucking know! You act like I'm gonna have all the answers, I've only been pregnant for like a month, I don't know what I'm gonna do!"

Billy stands up from Steve's lap and walks in a wide circle around the room, hands clenched in his hair. Now he's nauseous. God, just a couple months ago his biggest concern was skipping class and how to hide a joint from a teacher, and now he's fucking _pregnant?_

"We're _eighteen,_ Steve, we can't have a _kid._ We're gonna graduate in like six months, I'll be all --" Billy makes an exaggerated gesture around his midsection, a caricature of a pregnant belly. "The whole fucking town's gonna know. I can't have a kid, I'm a _guy,_ what am I gonna --?"

Ah. There it is. His sentence shudders to a halt. Half the town still calls him Wilma; the other half, he's just barely persuaded to call him Billy. He barely even _looks_ like Billy half the time, as far as he's concerned. Even with the mustache (mascara he swiped from Max. HRT is a moot point, as long as he's living under Neil's roof and insurance) and the two layers of sports bras and the million YouTube tutorials on how to lower your voice, the denim jackets and general don't-give-a-fuck attitude, he doesn't _quite_ tip the scales to 'masculine'. And this isn't gonna help.

But he can't get rid of it.

"Billy?"

Billy turns around. Steve is still sitting on the bed, leaned forward with his hands clasped.

"Huh?"

"I said, what about adoption?" he shrugs. "My cousin had a baby a few years ago; she gave it up, it got adopted by this gay couple in Maine. She still talks to them sometimes." there's a long silence. "...I mean. It's an idea."

Billy thinks. He wanders back to the bed. Sits down and puts his head in his hands. "Yeah, it is," he says to the floor. "'s the best idea we've got."

"I'll, uh...what do you need me to do?"

"I don't know." he feels like he's gonna be sick. Wouldn't be the first time today.

"Okay," Steve says. Then again, quieter. He puts a hand on Billy's back, traces the knobs of his spine through his shirt. "I'm still sorry."

"Yeah. Me too."

"Just gotta make it through nine months, I guess. Eight, whatever."

Billy sits up, leans back on his hands. A wry laugh works its way out of him. "And you thought we were coming up here to fuck. Hell of a plot twist, huh?"

"I mean...we still can." he gives Steve a sidelong look. His boyfriend is so good at the sad-puppy eyes, for a hot second Billy thinks he's serious. Then Steve snorts and gently shoves him. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

"You better be."

Billy flops back onto the bed. Pretty sure he's feeling every emotion in existence right now. With a side of relief. He ripped the proverbial bandage off, and Steve didn't immediately break up with him. Didn't kick him out of the house, didn't even get mad. He's still pregnant, but he's at least on solid footing now. He's got something to hang onto. It's doable.

Steve flops down next to him. Billy hears him sigh. Then the mattress dips and jostles and he rolls over to face him. A hand pushes his bangs out of the way, and Steve presses a kiss to his temple.

"Hey."

Billy turns. "Hey, yourself."

"I love you."

He sighs. "You too, Harrington."

oOo


	3. Chapter 3

Early evening. Billy is sitting on his air mattress bed. In front of him is his laptop, open to google. The search bar blinks.

First he types _adoption._ That doesn't look right.

_-tap tap tap-_

_giving up a baby for adoption_

_-tap tap tap-_

_how to give up a baby for adoption_

He's about to hit 'enter' when his door swings open. On instinct, he switches to the physics homework he's supposed to be doing. But it's just El, walking right in unannounced; she does that. Billy can't fault her for it, he does it too. She plunks right down on the end of the mattress.

"Hi Billy."

"Hey."

A few minutes pass in companionable silence. Billy types a few lines of gibberish just to look busy.

"Are you really having a baby?"

He looks up. El is staring him down; there's nothing but curiosity in her expression. He simply says "yep" and looks back to his computer, and waits for the inevitable _but aren't you a guy??_

...which doesn't come. He looks up again, and she's smiling.

"That's really cool."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. I've never met a baby before."

Billy gnaws on his lip. _You're not gonna meet one anytime soon, kid._ But he can't just say that. He hoists as much of a smile as he can manage instead. "You'll do just fine, squirt."

"Don't call me that." El frowns a little. Billy smiles for real now.

"What, you prefer munchkin? Kiddo? Brat?" he reaches out and ruffles her hair, which coaxes a laugh out of her even as she swats his hand away.

"You are much nicer when you're happy," she says, like a compliment, not just something that could be said about anyone. That gives him pause. He thinks back to just a year or two ago, what he was like then. Even _he_ wouldn't have wanted to know that Billy Hargrove. He shakes it off; now's not the time to deal with that particular can of worms.

"Thanks, El."

There's a knock on the wall; Hopper's standing in the doorway. He looks back and forth between them.

"You kids causin' trouble?"

El looks at Hopper, then at Billy, then back to Hopper, and earnestly says "no" just as Billy says "always". Hopper snorts into his beard. Then he nods to El. "Your backpack's still in the living room, kiddo, need to put it away."

El jumps up without so much as a backward glance, slips past Hopper, and disappears with his "thank you" trailing after her. Then Hopper points to Billy and gives him a questioning thumbs-up. _You good?_

Billy returns the thumbs-up. Hopper pulls the door closed, and his footsteps retreat down the hallway. Billy stares into the middle distance. His hand drifts down to rest on his midsection for a moment. Then he returns to his search.

* * *

Word is starting to spread, now that Steve knows. El knows, obviously. Max, Nancy, Jonathan, Carol. Dustin and co. That one lesbian girl Steve works with. Thankfully they all know to keep their mouths shut about it. And thankfully Billy can still hide the bump under a hoodie or oversized shirt. With his shirt off, though, he's definitely pregnant...he doesn't go shirtless very often now.

And of course, there are questions. Most of them well-meaning; Tommy and the other guys pester him about going to parties. He's had to come up with some pretty out-there excuses. El asks lots of questions about the baby -- can't blame her, she's just curious -- and Hopper keeps tabs on him. How he's doing, how he's feeling, if he needs anything. Feels nice to have some support.

But the weird thing is, when it's just him and Steve? They don't talk about it. Not really. Steve will ask how he's feeling, and he helps him with figuring out the whole adoption thing, but that's as far as it goes. For Billy, it's deliberate: he doesn't want to get attached. As far as he's concerned, the kid's just a tenant. He's not keeping it, so there's no reason to. And Steve, bless him, just follows Billy's lead.

* * *

November goes by in a blur. So does December. Before he knows it, Billy's waking up to El belting out _Jingle Bell Rock_ and announcing to the whole house that it's Christmas.

It's a pretty laid-back day. There's no drunk Neil to avoid, and he doesn't have to spend the morning shoveling the driveway. He even gets a couple of small presents, which is a new thing. New, but nice.

He's showing more now; it's harder to hide, even with a hoodie. He can tell Steve is curious. Billy goes over to his place Christmas day (his parents are travelling for the holidays, Steve somehow convinced them to let him stay behind) and they spend most of it just hanging out, tangled up on Steve's full-size bed. Steve's hands wander a lot. They skirt around his belly, but never quite touch. It's sweet as much as it's frustrating. He's trying to be respectful, Billy knows that, but everyone's being so _careful_ around him these days. He grabs Steve's wrist and plants it on his belly, dead-center.

Steve's story about Robin's new girlfriend skids to a halt. He looks down at their hands. Back up to Billy.

"It's not gonna go away if we ignore it," Billy says flatly.

"I know, I just..thought you didn't --?"

"I don't care. Like I said, it's not going anywhere."

Steve is still for a moment. Then his hand starts to move, tracing the curve of Billy's stomach with his fingers. It tickles; Billy fights the urge to squirm.

"It's crazy," says Steve, almost to himself. "There's a whole-ass baby in there. Like, we _made_ this."

"I've got an appointment with the adoption agency on Monday."

"Mm."

Maybe that was mean of Billy, to just cut him off. But it's not a train of thought he wants to follow. Steve continues to trace the shape of his stomach; lays his hand flat just over Billy's navel. His hand is so warm. He takes a deep breath. Hesitates. Starts to speak, and gets as far as the first syllable. Then the phone rings, out in the hall. Steve's parents are the only people Billy knows who still have a landline. Steve swears, murmurs an apology, kisses Billy's forehead, and climbs out of bed to hurry away.

"Hey, aunt Lisa. Yeah, merry Christmas to you too..."

Billy sighs and rolls onto his back. The bed's already getting cold without Steve there. The man's a furnace. And he's gonna be a while, this particular aunt talks just to hear her own voice. So Billy stretches, yawns, and gets comfy. One hand comes to rest on his belly. Steve can join him when he gets back...

He's almost asleep when he feels it. Doesn't recognize it at first, but then it happens again: a little _pop_ right under his hand. His breath gets caught in his throat. He's felt that before, just the occasional flutter, but only on the inside, not --

Billy sits up, pulls up his shirt and holds it under his chin. His hands dart over his belly, gently poking and prodding. _Do it again._

A minute goes by. And there it is again, off to the side. Just a faint little _tap._

"...Oh fuck." cold washes down his back, along with a swell of emotions that makes him lightheaded. There's another kick, and he laughs breathlessly. "Yeah, hi. Hey. You're really in there, huh?" god, and now he's talking to it. Careful, Hargrove. But he can't stop coasting his hands over his belly. What was it Steve said? That's a whole-ass baby. He laughs weakly.

"Sorry 'bout that, she calls every Christmas and I --" Billy looks up to see Steve standing just inside the doorway, looking bemused. "...what are you doing?"

Billy makes an awkward 'come here' sort of gesture. Steve steps up to the bed, and Billy grabs him by the wrist and pulls him in. He gets a knee up on the bed but is otherwise bent uncomfortably over the mattress. Billy presses Steve's hand into his belly, plasters his own over the top of it. There's a flutter of activity underneath. Steve's eyes widen.

"You felt that, right?" Billy's voice comes out thin.

"Yeah. Is that --?"

"Yeah."

"Holy shit," Steve breathes. "That's so _weird."_ he splays his fingers out; can't quite cover the bump anymore. "Hey bud, what's up? You sayin' hi?"

"Steve. Don't."

He glances at Billy. Mutters an apology, but keeps his hand where it is. The baby rolls over, kicks lazily once or twice. Steve sighs.

"Hell of a Christmas present, huh?"

There's that twist in his gut again. He bites it back. Just watches Steve's hand on his belly and doesn't say anything. Hell of a Christmas present, indeed.

oOo


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for the wait, y'all. Life happened, and I'm trying to get this fic properly planned out. But here's a drawing in the meantime, and I super promise I'll have an update for you soon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💥💥TRIGGER WARNING: this chapter contains deliberate misgendering, deadnaming, and other transphobic language, courtesy of Neil and his A+ parenting. Proceed with caution. 💥💥

Steve wades through the tide of people streaming out the high school's front doors. End of the first week back after Christmas break; you can barely hear yourself think over the sound of slush on pavement. Nancy is standing off to one side, reading something on her phone; Steve waves.

"Wheeler!"

She looks up and smiles at the sight of him. He pulls her into a one-armed hug when he gets close enough.

"Hey stranger. Missed you yesterday."

"Yeah, Billy had a doctor's appointment, he wanted me to go with him...walk you home?"

Nancy shrugs and hoists her backpack onto her shoulder. Steve figures that means yes, so off they go. The crowd thins as they reach the parking lot.

"So," says Nancy "speaking of Billy...I'm sure you get asked this a lot, but how's he doing?"

"He's fine," says Steve. "Tired. The kid just hit its first growth spurt, so he had to get a bunch of new shirts. He's like..." he counts on his fingers for a moment, lips moving silently "...almost six months now? Ish?"

Nancy whistles lowly. "And, uh...how are _you_ doing?"

"Me? Fine." he shrugs. The pair crosses the street to cut through a neighborhood, and they walk in silence for a few minutes. Steve's phone buzzes in his pocket. Probably Dustin with one of his endless questions.

"It's just weird, y'know?" Steve speaks up again. "Like, he had an ultrasound yesterday, got a printout of it and everything, but he just doesn't talk about it. He doesn't talk to the kid, he doesn't like me to talk to it. He lets me feel if it kicks, but that's it. He just acts like it's not happening."

"This is a scary thing he's going through. I can't say I blame him."

"No, I know! I know. It's just...weird." Steve finishes lamely.

"Is he still planning on adopting?"

"Beats me, he won't tell me that either. Last time he talked about it it kinda sounded like he was rethinking the adoption thing, but I dunno."

Nancy kicks a rock. It skitters along the sidewalk, then off into a storm drain. "...You can feel it kick?" she asks. There's genuine wonder in her voice.

"Yeah. Weirdest fucking thing. Little tadpole just swimmin' around in there."

"What's it feel like?"

"Billy says it feels like a paintbrush? Or like someone flicking him with their finger." he gently flicks her arm to demonstrate. "From the outside it's just little twitches, but it's cool."

His friend smiles. "You guys are gonna be good parents, Steve."

"Oh god, I hope so." he lets out a little nervous laugh and stuffs his hands in his pockets. Conversation over.

\--

They walk in silence the last block or so to Nancy's house. Light snow starts to fall, sticking in their hair and melting in their jacket collars. Hurried goodbyes are exchanged, Nancy disappears into her house, and Steve stands for a moment on the empty street. His phone buzzes again. Oh, right! Dustin! He fishes it out of his pocket with a gloved hand -- wait. That's Billy's number. The first few are pretty normal -- are you out of school yet, I'm bored, etc -- but then they take an alarming turn.

**< fuckkkk he just texted me>**

**< steve where tf are you>**

**< steve>**

**< babe>**

Steve holds one glove in his teeth as he types his response.

**< sorry, was walking nancy home>**

**< you ok??>**

He gets an answer almost immediately:

**< no>**

**< come over>**

**< now pls>**

\--

Steve's hair is wet with snow by the time he gets to Hopper's place. The door is unlocked; he pushes it open and hurries inside, barely stopping to kick off his shoes. The walk there was just enough time to come up with what-ifs, and his head is spinning with them.

"Billy? It's Steve, you okay?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, just lets muscle memory carry him to Billy's room. Then he hesitates. Cracks open the door and peeks inside. There's Billy on his air mattress, phone in hand, typing away. Could be a normal afternoon, if it weren't for the look on his face. Steve lowers himself onto the air mattress.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Your dad -?"

"Yeah. Fuckin'...decided he wants to be the concerned parent." Billy's voice cracks a little.

"You wanna talk about it, or...?"

Billy doesn't answer. Sighs hard through his nose, drops his phone on the mattress and looks away, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. After a moment's hesitation, Steve picks up the phone. A line of text messages stare back at him. A few mundane ones, something about a bank account password, but then --

**N: <where are you>**

**B: <don't worry about it. i'm safe>**

**N: <** **answer the question >**

**B: <i'm at tommy's>**

A few minutes' pause, then:

**N: <bullshit>**

**< you're at that harrington kid's house, aren't you>**

**< steve>**

**B: <no, i'm not>**

**N: <yes you are, dont lie to me>**

**< i know you>**

**< you're always sneaking around w him bc he enables you thinking your something you're not>**

**B: <we're not having this conversation>**

**N: <don't talk back to me>**

**< come home>**

**B: <i'm staying with tommy until i have the baby>**

**N: <what do you mean, until you have the baby>**

**< i told you to get rid of that>**

**< either you get rid of it yourself, or you come home and i drive you to the clinic>**

**B: <dad, i'm 24 weeks, i can't just get rid of it>**

**N: <you can and you will>**

**< do you know how bad it would look if my eldest daughter was a teen mom???>**

**< you are 18, wilma, you are not doing this>**

**< come home now>**

**< maxine has been asking for you, she misses her sister>**

**B: <i've been texting max every day, she's fine>**

**N: <don't fucking push me, young lady>**

**< you come home, or i'm calling your little boyfriend's parents>** ****

**B:** **< i'm staying until i have the baby>**

**N: <i'm calling the cops>**

**< harrington's parents are harboring a runaway>**

**< that's illegal>**

**< they could go to jail and it would be all your fault>**

**< this is your last chance>**

**B: <i've made my decision, dad, i'm staying here>**

**< leave me alone>**

A few more lines of ranting follow. Steve doesn't have the stomach to read them. He puts down the phone with a sigh and looks at his boyfriend.

"What a charmer."

Billy lets out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and quickly covers his mouth. Oh god, that was the wrong thing to say. Steve scoots into his space a little, holds out his arms.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, c'mere --"

Billy allows himself to be hugged, but doesn't reciprocate. Steve can feel him shaking. It makes his heart hurt. He nuzzles into Billy's hair, rubs his thumb back and forth over Billy's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, babe."

"You didn't do anything."

"I'm still sorry." he pulls away, rubs his hands up and down Billy's arms. "Hey. Look at me?"

Billy looks. He looks frightened and angry and tired. Steve sighs.

"I'm not gonna let him get to you, okay? Me and El, and Dustin and co, and Nancy and Robin and everyone, we're on your side with this. He wants to mess with you, he's gotta get through us first."

Billy snorts through the tears. "Cheesy."

"I'm serious. He doesn't get to push you around like that. You're 18, you're a grown-ass man. You can do what you want."

"He's gonna call the cops, what the hell am I supposed to do --"

"Babe, think about it. We're literally at the police chief's house right now. Hopper knows about your dad, he knows he's nuts. It's not like they're gonna send a SWAT team after you." Billy starts to protest, but Steve cuts him off. "Look. He's not the one having this kid. You are. _You_ get to make the decisions."

Billy lets out a ragged sigh and rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. Reaches over and grabs a tissue from beside the bed, sniffles into it. As he moves, his shirt pulls tighter over his belly, and it makes Steve's heart feel funny.

"Have, uh... _have_ you made a decision? About what you're gonna do?" he asks before he can stop himself. Billy looks at him, follows his gaze down.

"I don't wanna talk about it right now."

Of course not. "Okay. That's fine."

A few beats of silence pass.

"...We're gonna have to talk about it at some point, babe. Preferably before the kid gets here."

"I _know,_ jesus, Harrington. You're starting to sound like Hopper."

Steve holds his hands up, placating. "That's all I'm gonna say. I'm sorry."

Billy tosses the tissue across the room, narrowly missing the wastebasket. He casts around for a moment like he's looking for something else to throw, gives up, and scrubs his hands through his hair. Then the fight seems to go out of him. He lies down in one fluid motion and lands with his head on Steve's leg. And there he lies. Absently, Steve cards his fingers through his hair. Billy's hands wander down to his abdomen.

"You know it's gonna be okay, right? Whatever ends up happening."

Billy doesn't look at him. His fingers are tracing little nonsense patterns on his belly as he stares into space.

"Yeah. I know."

💢💢💢

**Author's Note:**

> If you like the story, please leave a comment -- I'd love to hear from you!


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